Reunion
by Invader Krag
Summary: After two years of self-imposed exile from almost the entire PS118 gang, Helga transfers high schools to be with Arnold again in an attempt to finally affect some change in her own life.
1. ONE in which there is an old friend

Hey everyone, yes, it's me. Don't know if you remember me...I haven't posted anything for over 7 years. A long hiatus, if I do say so myself...I used to be heavily involved in the online HA! scene when it was going on, and...well, anyway, I've been on a bit of a Hey Arnold! nostalgia kick lately, and was reading all the old fics I used to love...and I got inspired.

This is just a short first chapter for a story I hope to continue. My computer's on the fritz at the moment, so updating will be sporadic. I wanted to get it out there, though, and here it is. Perhaps I'll even try to finish Helga Gets Rich! some time soon. Anyway, read and enjoy.

EDIT: I was writing more of the story, and realized that what I was writing still belonged in chapter one. So, I just made it longer. Chapter two will come soon.

* * *

CHAPTER ONE  
in which there is an old friend

A step.

Another.

A third.

Pause.

_Shit._

She smoothed out the front of her dress. Every slight movement forward took a monumental force of will. Muffling screams, strangling sobs, she trudged through invisible, thigh-high swamp water towards her destination. Fifteen thousand possible excuses ran through her mind in an instant, and she became uncomfortably aware of every door, every window, every means of escape available. There was still time...

_This is the dumbest thing I have ever done_, she thought, _and I know that, so why can't I stop myself? Things could stay as they are. Status quo, and all that. I might not be happy, but I won't run the risk of being exposed. I don't need this!_

Wrong.

_I don't need this...right now._

Wrong again.

_I need this. But I don't want this._

Close enough. For another step, anyway.

_I need...to calm down. Breathing. Breathing is good._

_Nothing can hurt me here...nothing is attacking me, I don't know any of these people. This is a trial run. If I can't do it now, how the hell am I ever going to do it for real? _

Everyone could see her by that point - their kind, friendly stares burned into her skin. It would've been easier had they not seemed so...supportive. At least then she'd have adversaries, something to prove. The acceptance, the eager waiting...she couldn't look them in the eye. To look them in the eye would be to connect, and a connection might unnerve her, might distract her enough that she'd bolt out the door and back into routine.

_No more running. Isn't that what Phoebe said? Isn't that the whole reason I'm doing this? For her?_

Another step.

_No...that's backwards. Pheebs isn't here, I'm on my own. This is for me. This is for peace of mind. This is for him. Good God I want to get the hell out of here._

Step.

_Oh. _She had reached the stage. _Now or never time. Too bad 'never' freaks the hell out of me. Here goes, ol' gal._

She dragged over a chair, and looked out above the sea of faces. The lights focused on her made it close to impossible to discern a single detail of the room, a fact for which she was intensely grateful. But through the windows on the other side of the room she caught a glimpse of the outside - street lamps, concrete, neon signs, a cool night aura hanging over everything...not home, but enough like it that she was able to take a moment and allow her heart to stop beating so furiously. It was on streets like this that she used to find her only moments of happiness playing baseball, cracking open fire hydrants, chasing after some shred of hope. Simpler times.

"I don't sing," she blurted out into the void. There were a few chuckles. Stalling, she continued. "So...sorry if you were, y'know, expecting that. I just...don't." Opting to quit while she was ahead, or at least while she was still on course, she finally took her seat.

_'Home is where you can do what you feel without remorse,' right, Pheebs?_

Helga placed her fingers on the keys, a foot on the sustain pedal, and slowly, tentatively welcomed the crowd into her home.

Everything turned pink and gold. Everything was rain. Everything was pain, release, catharsis. She stared down at her hands and belatedly realized that she was playing the baby grand in front of her. She'd forgotten...it was as if every time she sat down at a piano, the sounds that came out reconciled themselves into images before she heard them. Like playing a dream.

So she played the audience a picture of her childhood. It wasn't pretty, it wasn't melodic, but it was passionately truthful, and sad. More than a few of the listeners felt their own pasts resonate with her song that night, finding a kindred spirit in the disheveled sixteen year old artist on the stage. Most of them had never seen her before, and never would again, but they could all pick up on how important this was for her. The first time she opened up to complete strangers, and possibly anyone. It was beautiful because it was real, and because it was real, it had weight.

When she finished, there was no applause. Everyone let out the breaths they didn't realize they were holding tight in their chests, and Helga just sat and stared at the piano, unsure of what to do.

_They hated it. _She was numb, frozen to her chair. _They hated it. Well...at least I know. No hope, no talent, no - _

"Ice cream." a voice by her ear whispered. She jumped, and a warm hand landed on her shoulder.

"What?" She mumbled.

"I'm taking you out for ice cream," the voice said. It seemed less like an offer and more like a description of events set in stone. Helga, weak and wobbly after her performance, saw no other option but to follow this strange woman. At least it would get her out of the Open Mic, and away from all of those blank eyes.

The hands guided Helga out the back door, and a rush of cold air reminded her how late it was, and seemed to cut through the haze that had been clouding her thoughts since she walked into the club.

"Look, lady," she said, "I'm all for free ice cream, but I don't even know you, and I'd like to get home. I kind of just bombed a performance, the least you could do is let me wallow."

"You didn't bomb, and you're not the wallowing type. It was incredible, Helga," said the woman.

"Excuse me, were you even _there_? They didn't even clap for me."

"They didn't clap because they didn't know what to do, Helga. You touched them."

"That sounds like a whole lot of - "

_Wait._

Helga stopped walking abruptly and the woman stopped as well, turning to face her.

"I didn't use my real name tonight," Helga said, clenching her fists. The woman just smiled and said nothing. "Who the hell are you, lady?"

A car passed, and in the flash of its headlights, Helga finally saw the face clearly. A face she hadn't seen for years. Her knees went weak, and threatened to collapse as she recognized Dr. Bliss, who pulled her into a tearful hug.

* * *

They walked along in silence, enjoying their ice cream cones and their own thoughts. Helga was unsure of what to do - their conversation had thus far been devoid of anything serious or personal. Helga asked about Dr. Bliss' life, where she'd been, what she'd been doing, and in return she told her about how school was about to start up again, how she was going to be a junior in high school, et cetera. Surface level.

It had begun to rain, and so they ducked under a covered bus stop and sat together on the bench, finishing off their ice cream. As the sound of the raindrops hitting the metal above their heads raged on, Dr. Bliss finally spoke.

"You know, it's perfectly fine."

"What? What is?"

"Using me as a therapist tonight. It's fine, I don't mind."

Helga shot her a glare and crossed her arms. "I don't have anything to get off my chest, okay? Sheesh, I thought we were just getting ice cream."

"Okay."

After a prolonged pause, Helga sighed and looked over into Dr. Bliss' smiling face. "I'm still way too transparent, aren't I?"

"Some things never change. You were never a good liar. So are you going to tell me what tonight was all about, or should we just walk you back to your car?"

"It's a bit of a long story, really."

"I like long stories."

_Damn she's persistent, _Helga thought. _Oh well...no harm done here, I guess._ By way of answering Dr. Bliss' question, she reached under the front of her dress and pulled out a heart-shaped locket that was hanging on a chain around her neck. Dr. Bliss let out a slow breath as she stared at it. Popping it open, Helga revealed a picture of a teenaged Arnold.

He'd gotten more _and_ less attractive as he got older. High school is a hard time for most guys, it's when they look their strangest and most awkward. He still had the football-shaped head, he still wore the hat, and he had the same messy cornflower hair, but he was taller now, and a bit gangly, like his body had stretched upwards too fast for it to fill in sideways. But the optimism and inner strength still exploded out through his eyes, and Helga felt herself get warmer just by looking at the picture.

"After all this time?"

"Of course."

"So...you never told him?"

Helga squirmed. "No. I kind of...went to a different high school, and...and...I haven't seen him for two years." She replaced the locket into its hiding place.

"Trying to forget about him?"

"...or something like that, yeah. Running away is more like it."

"Well how about that? Look at you, Helga, you've grown up so much...it takes a lot of strength to admit you were a dirty coward." This earned an extra strong glare from Helga.

"Yes. Thank you _so_ much. Criminy, what a shrink _you_ are..."

"I'm off duty. I get to poke fun."

"Right...well anyway. I'm transferring."

"Back to his school?"

"Yeah. His and Phoebe's."

"Do you still see her?"

"Yeah. We still hang out a lot...just not as much as I'd like." Helga let go of the tension she'd been holding in her shoulders and stood up, storming out into the rain. "God, I just miss her. I miss them. I miss everyone in the whole goddamned school that I used to see every day, and I miss Arnold! I haven't been able to write one line of poetry that was any good since I pushed him out of my life, and it hurts. It hurts every freaking day...he was the only thing keeping me sane and grounded to _anything_, and without him...without him it's like...it's like...well I don't even _know_ what it's like! I can't tell you what it's like because I have _no poetry_ _anymore_. I had to start playing Olga's piano for an outlet, which just isn't enough, because it's not _mine_! I need _words_!" She suddenly realized she was rambling, and soaked with water, and went back to sit on the bench.

"Sorry."

"No, you needed that. But, for what it's worth, even without words, you really expressed yourself tonight."

Helga stopped squeezing the water out of her pigtails and looked at her. "You really think so? You weren't just saying that?"

"Of course. You touched everyone in that club tonight. Best thing I've seen in there for ages, that's for sure. You haven't lost it...I think you're keeping it from yourself. I think maybe you've blamed yourself for leaving Arnold, or perhaps you just don't want to be inspired by anything else. But you've still got it, as you proved tonight. Just trust yourself, and I'll bet the flow will come back."

Helga didn't look convinced. Staring off at the long line of street lights, she tried to change the subject. "So do you go to Open Mic often?"

"Every week. It relaxes me. This is your first?"

"Yeah."

"And so that's why you drove here from Hillwood to do it...so that you wouldn't chance seeing someone you know?"

"Sure, for all the good that did me."

"Hey, it could've been worse...'Cecile.' Nice stage name. Apropos."

"Maybe." Helga smiled. "Look. I know I don't need to hide from you...tonight was a test. Phoebe got me to do it. Something about building up to it...like if I can start sharing myself with strangers, maybe I can, you know...work up to it. With everyone else."

"And Arnold."

"Hey, one step at a time, Dr. Bliss - "

"Call me Molly, please, we're not in my office. Plus, I think we've spent enough time together that you've earned it."

Another silence. A bus stopped in front of them, and Molly waved it away as Helga brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. They sat there for quite some time, the atmosphere between them full of unasked questions. Molly Bliss quietly finished her ice cream cone, and threw the paper away in the garbage as she broke the silence.

"So, are you excited to go back to - "

"I wish you hadn't left, Molly."

It was a simple statement, but so much bottled up emotion was packed in behind it that it seemed to silence the rain around them. Molly suddenly saw Helga as not a self-assured teenager but a small child curling in on herself, warding off the world.

"Oh, Helga...I didn't have much of a choice. The money was better here, it was a better choice for me and my family. And besides...you didn't need me anymore."

"What? I did! I've needed you every damn day for the last four years!"

"No, you didn't. There's only so much I can do to help someone who only uses therapy as a means to vent, at least as far as Arnold is concerned. I taught you to be constructive with your feelings, and I was an ear when you needed someone to talk to. But until you take this into your own hands, you'll never move past it."

Helga caught herself starting to cry and bit back the tears, breathing deeply. She said bitterly, "I think I need to get home, Molly. My parents might get worried if I'm not there when they wake up. If they even notice."

Molly took out a small notebook from her jacket and wrote something on it, tore off the page and handed it to Helga. "This is my cell phone number. I want you to call me any time if you need it."

Helga took it, and her anger vanished as quickly as it had come. While entering it into her phone, she got a text from Phoebe: "How did it go?" _I'll answer her later...when I've figured it out_, she thought. The girl and the therapist stood up to begin the walk back to their cars, arms around each other. After saying their goodbyes, Helga got on the freeway and headed back to Hillwood...she had a lot to think about before school started on Monday.


	2. TWO in which there is a chance meeting

CHAPTER TWO

in which there is a chance meeting in the dark

It was midnight when she pulled into her parents' garage. They were almost definitely asleep, Miriam usually being a couple smoothies in by ten o' clock and Bob having work at eight in the morning. This was her time alone in the house. They could sleep through pretty much anything...but she didn't feel like staying here tonight. Maybe she could crash at Phoebe's..._god knows she'd be itching to find out how tonight went anyway..._

Stepping outside, she marveled at the last two years of her existence. Outside. It was a luxury during the daytime - any time spent outside was time that she could run into anyone from PS118 - unacceptable. Spending time in other neighborhoods was the key - as soon as she'd been old enough she gotten her driver's license. Miriam and Bob didn't take much convincing; once Helga had explained to them that a car and a steady and generous allowance was the key to getting her out of their hair, they'd agreed easily enough. Sometimes she almost missed them...sometimes she thought they almost missed her. Almost. Oh, family.

_This late in the evening, the only people out and about are night-shifters, college students, criminals and Monkeyman._ _And me too_, she thought. She pulled out her cell phone and started to text Phoebe, leaning against the wall of the garage, listening to the rain.

[Pheebs. im home. slmbr party?]

[Helga! You didn't reply to my previous inquiry! Yes, by all means, come over...my parents are out of town this weekend, therefore we can stay up without fear of intruding on anyone's sleep.]

[k...wait. alone this weekend? isnt gerald there then?]

[He says he does not mind. He seems to miss you.]

[criminy. b there soon.]

_Perfect, _she thought. _Just what I need...Tall Hair Boy isn't exactly the kind of company I had in mind. Third wheel's a bitch._

Deciding to walk instead of drive, she ducked into the house to grab her raincoat, and headed out the front door. It had started raining harder as the night went on, but it matched her mood, so she didn't mind - it kind of felt like the sky was on her side. Crossing the street in the middle of the block, she let her mind wander.

How many times had she walked this path? So many years of escaping to Phoebe's place, so many days spent wandering this neighborhood, feeling like a queen, only to have it all fall apart when she left. Those days were over. She'd tried it at her new school, but it felt empty and meaningless. Without the same people, it was just bullying - no fun left in it, only guilty mean-spiritedness. Now, Phoebe was her last friend. She bore the burden well. Phoebe always did.

A car drove by and splattered Helga with muddy water. She swore fiercely at it as it retreated, and her bow somehow managed to fall into the gutter. She leaned over and retrieved it. _Wonderful, just when things couldn't get any - _

She saw him.

Everything stopped. A memory flashed in front of her, of a football-headed kid offering his umbrella to a muddy little girl wearing a pink -

He was on the other side of the road, staring at her. She stood, affixed to the pavement, disbelieving.

The figure.

It was dark, he was shadowed from the street light by his umbrella, and she hadn't seen him in person for two years, but she knew it was him. Not even because of the shape of his silhouette, but because of his presence.

Turning down a nearby alley, she ran at breakneck speed.

_What am I doing? Why am I running? Surely he recognized me, we stood there staring at each other for almost a minute! Or was it only a few seconds? Shit, now he's just going to think I'm crazy! That is, if he even recognized me...Helga, what the hell is your problem!_

A loud honk and a pair of headlights veering out of her path made her stop abruptly, and she momentarily lost her bearings. _Get to Phoebe's. Gotta get there, I'm not ready to deal with this yet._ Stumbling across the street and stopping a few more cars, she finally made it to Phoebe's stoop and pressed herself up against the door, letting the overhang shield her from the pouring rain long enough to catch her breath.

Once the adrenaline subsided, and she was sure the figure hadn't followed her, she pulled out her locket and examined it to make sure. She had cut the picture out of a yearbook she'd stolen from a student at the high school. Yes...the silhouettes matched. And who else could it have been, with that distinctive head of his? Arnold's mother's genes were particularly well-represented in him. Except for his hair...he has his father's blond hair...

"Oh, Arnold, my love...how I have longed for this day, and now look at what I have wrought! I flee from your appearance, the very memory of my former torment enough to hasten my stride...how can I ever regain what I have lost, when the mere thought of our reunion turns my legs to jelly, my heart to - "

Phoebe's door opened, and a warm light flooded the street. Helga, mid-soliloquy, turned abruptly to face Phoebe's bright red, muscled face, emblazoned with the number thirty-three...

_Wait._

"You look like a wet dog, Helga."

_Wonderful. Of course he would've gotten taller. It's what boys do. Though I'm not sure I would have expected a six-foot Gerald Johanssen. _

"Well, nice to see you too, Tall Hair Boy," said Helga, stepping inside. As she reaffixed her muddy pink bow, she glanced up at him to make eye contact. "Though I guess that's not quite so fitting anymore, is it?" Truly, his hair was now cropped quite close to his head - it was his entire body that was tall, now.

"I guess not. Well, Phoebe's getting some towels for you, she'll be down in a minute. You want a Yahoo?"

"Sure, bucko, I'll take one of Phoebe's Yahoos that you don't seem to mind offering on her behalf. Oh, don't get up, I'll get it myself." Helga wandered into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, pulling out three Yahoos. She looked down and realized her hand was shaking. _Damn. No, Gerald can not see me this way. I can NOT already be blowing this..._

"Helga! I knew you would require these, you always seem to think it is a good idea to go out walking in the rain." Phoebe had materialized behind her, as she so often did. Helga never bothered asking how, she just assumed it was some sort of magic that short people possess. Though maybe now, seeing Gerald, she was going to have to re-define her relative definition of "short." But now wasn't the time for mincing words. She had to act fast. Sitting the Yahoos down and grabbing Phoebe and the towels in one movement, she dragged her out of Gerald's view, and around the corner.

"I saw Arnold."

Phoebe let out a scared little peep and looked frightened. "Did you two...converse?"

"No, thank God. I'm not even sure he recognized me...but I ran here. Away. Sheesh, I ran away, Pheebs, like a coward! And now Gerald's here, and he's seen me too, and you _know_ he's going to tell Arnold about it, and - "

"Calm down, Helga! This is what you wanted, isn't it? A chance to redeem yourself, a chance to reclaim what you threw away."

"You sure know how to make a gal feel good about herself, don't you?"

"Trying!"

Helga sighed...she was right, of course. But two reunions in one night seemed a bit much, no matter how you sliced it...even if Arnold's was just a chance passing on a rainy night. Where he probably didn't even see you. Yeah.

"Hey, where'd you guys go?" Gerald came around the corner, and saw Helga still gripping Phoebe by the arms. She let go when she saw the angry look on his face. He quickly checked in with Phoebe to see if she was alright, and then said, "Well. I think it's time I should be going, then...you two obviously need to talk." As he turned to go, Helga's voice stopped him.

"Hair Boy, wait."

He turned around. "Yeah?"

"...it'sgoodtoseeyou."

"Huh?"

"I said it's good to see you, okay? Sheesh! Criminy, are you deaf or something?" In a huff, she stormed into the living room and threw herself onto the couch. Gerald stared quizzically at Phoebe, who just gave him a little smile and kissed him goodbye.

"Helga is a work in progress," she mumbled.

"One compliment doesn't change a leopard's spots," he mumbled back. By way of a response, she gave him a _look_, and he chuckled as he walked out the door. "You're a bold girl, Phoebe. A bold girl."

When Phoebe walked into the living room, Helga was laying on the couch, repeatedly tossing one of the cushions up in the air and catching it. Phoebe pulled over a chair, sat, and waited.

Helga caught the pillow and held it out above her head, slowly spinning it, avoiding Phoebe's encouraging gaze, cheeks blazing red.

She chanced a peek. _Yep. Still staring. And beaming. She's going to make this difficult, I can tell already... _

After an embarrassed, unbearable pause, Phoebe broke the silence.

"Did - "

"_Fine_, Criminy, I'll tell you about tonight! You don't have to ask fifty times." And, burying her face in the pillow, she began to tell the story - leaving out details that were _too_ embarrassing, exaggerating her oratorical skills in front of an audience, and paraphrasing the conversation with Dr. Bliss. After a pause, she even added back in the fact that Dr. Bliss said her piece was fantastic.

Phoebe, to her credit, calmed herself down enough to have a reflective moment before speaking, instead of suffocating Helga with a congratulatory hug. She swallowed her enthusiasm and quietly said "Well...was it worth it, Helga? Did you feel that this was a satisfactory first step towards your inevitable goal?"

"I still ran away, Pheebs."

"But it's still early, Helga, you can't expect to change in one day!"

"Then how many days? How many days will it take? Because school starts _next week_ - will I be ready by then? No, of course not! I'm going to go to school, see him again, totally ruin everything and then I'll be right back at square one - no, square _negative_ one, because at least right now he doesn't _know_."

"Know _what_, Helga?"

"That even after two years, I'm still the same old brutish, unattractive, talks-with-my-fists _jerk_ who can't even say three stupid little words!"

Phoebe took this as her cue - she took a deep breath, yanked the pillow off of Helga's face and looked down at her, a steely glint in her eye that Helga didn't recognize. "You are _not_ a jerk, not inside. You are _not _brutish, you are _certainly not_ unattractive anymore, not that you ever were, not really, and you absolutely _can _and _will_ say those three stupid little words, and more besides! I have watched you try and try, but I've never seen you make a real attempt at connecting with other human beings like you did tonight. You have it in you, and you will succeed, or you'll answer to Old Bertha!" Phoebe shook her fist at Helga's nose, and did her best imitation of an angry look.

After Helga recovered from her initial shock, she burst into tearful laughter and fell off the couch, sputtering "O...Old Bertha! What kind of a name is that?" Phoebe, her momentum officially interrupted, indignantly replied "Well, you named yours Betsy, so I figured another B name would suffice for mine!" Wiping the tears from her eyes, Helga stood up and gave Phoebe the tightest hug she could manage.

"Thanks, Pheebs. After all this time, and the way I've taken you for granted so often, it always amazes me that you're the only person who ever says anything nice about me."

"Not the only person, Helga."

"Don't even start. He's going to hate me."

"He never hated you before, and he won't start now. You just have to promise me that whatever happens, you'll keep up hope until you manage to confess your feelings."

"Yeah, yeah, easier said than done. But point taken. No losing hope, check."

"Now come on, let's go to bed. It's late." Phoebe and Helga headed upstairs, holding hands.

"Sounds good. By the way...Hair Boy certainly got...taller."

"Indeed he did."

"Musclier, too."

"Indeed he did."

"And a hell of a lot more protective."

"Indeed he did." Phoebe smiled. "It's amusing."

"...Do you really think I'm attractive?"

"Absolutely, Helga, we just have to get rid of the pigtails and you might look like a normal adolescent female."

"We can discuss it. But the bow stays."

"Of course."

"I'm taking the bed, you can sleep on your air mattress."

"No problem!"

"Oh, and fetch me another Yahoo, those ones I got out earlier are probably warm."

"Fetching!"


End file.
